Читать книгу The Christmas Campaign - Patricia Bradley - Страница 11

CHAPTER TWO

NICOLE MONTGOMERY CAREFULLY put the sixtieth candle on her father’s birthday cake, and wondered which of her brothers would make a crack about Daniel Montgomery not burning down the house. “Do you want the cake in the dining room?”

“On the buffet.” Her mother turned to get something from the refrigerator.

Nicole pushed open the dining room door and couldn’t keep a grin from sliding across her lips. She shook her head. As usual, her mom had gone all out. Blue and white streamers hung from the ceiling and birthday balloons floated up from their tethers, competing with Christmas decorations that had been up since the day after Thanksgiving.

While normal people hit the stores at 5 a.m. on Black Friday, her mother decorated the family home, inside and out. It never seemed to faze her that a week later, she would add birthday decorations. If it’d been Nicole, she would have simply waited on the wreaths and Christmas trees.

Back in the kitchen, she peeled the Idaho golds that would soon be her mother’s award-winning creamed potatoes.

“Look at this.”

Joyce Montgomery pushed her smartphone under her daughter’s nose. Nicole leaned back so she could see what was so important, but the words blurred. “It’s too close, I can’t read it.”

“It’s a text from Sarah Redding, the director of the children’s shelter. Volunteers are needed this Saturday to help get the place ready for state inspection. I’m sure Peter Elliott will be there.”

Her mother was matchmaking again. Maybe she’d drop the subject if Nicole ignored her.

“You should plan on going. Your brothers, too. I’ll tell them as soon as they get here for dinner.”

“It’s Pop’s birthday. You might want to wait until the celebration is over.” Nicole scratched her nose with the back of her hand. She wished her mom would quit trying to fix her up. She’d done the relationship thing, and it hadn’t worked out.

And it wasn’t as if men didn’t ask her out. She’d simply gotten in the habit of preferring her own company to the dreaded dating scene. The nervousness of that first date. Making small talk. Shake hands or kiss at the door? Nope. Been there, done that, had the broken heart to prove it.

She could count on one hand the men she trusted, and they were all family members. “What do you want me to do after I finish the potatoes?”

“I want you to promise me you’ll help at the shelter this Saturday. I know you don’t have anything planned.”

“I might. There are a lot of Christmas parties happening already.” It was only Monday afternoon. Anything could happen in four days and seven hours.

“Pff,” her mother huffed. “You never go out on Saturday.”

Nicole washed the diced potatoes and put them on to boil. “You never know, I might have a hot date. Besides, Peter Elliott doesn’t notice me any more now than he did in high school. So don’t try to find ways to throw us together.”

Nicole was surprised she hadn’t mentioned Jake. He was another of her mom’s men-you-could-date-if-you-wanted-to subjects since Nicole’s breakup with Stuart two years ago.

“But you both serve on the city council. If you’d just practice flirting a little—”

“Mom! Really.” She bent down and hugged her five-foot-four mother. “I’m not his type. All during high school and in college, he only had eyes for Allie Carson. She was cute and dainty—something I’ll never be.

“And don’t start with his cousin Jake. Neither of them are into someone who can look them straight in the eye, or outshoot them on the basketball court...or who walks like a heifer plodding across cotton rows.”

Nicole’s reference to a comment made twenty-one years ago brought a frown from her mother. “You do no such thing. And that dance instructor never said that was the way you walked.”

Nicole might have been only twelve, but she knew what she’d heard. And she’d never gone to another class.

Her mother wasn’t one to let a subject die. “I mean, you might not have been asked to dance the lead in a ballet, but you were...very graceful on the basketball court.”

And that was the only place she was graceful. Nicole’s size-ten feet and five-ten frame were not made for dancing, no matter what her mother wanted to believe.

“She could’ve been another supermodel,” said her brother Sam as he entered through the back door. He handed Nicole the two-year-old in his arms, and then turned to take a shopping bag from his very pregnant wife.

“With my feet, I’d probably stumble on the runway.” She nuzzled the baby’s soft blond hair as Sam tenderly guided Amy to a chair. Her oldest brother, who’d just turned forty, had it good, and he knew it. No biological clock ticking for him. Or Amy, who at thirty-six was only three years older than Nicole. With the birth of their son in two months, Amy would have her family complete. At least that was her plan.

“I’ll take Grace, and you can put this wherever Mom has the other presents stashed,” Sam said.

Her brother held out the prettily wrapped package Amy had brought in. Nicole glanced at the silver bow and embossed paper. All that fancy wrapping was wasted on her dad. Now, her mother on the other hand...

“No, I’m good.” She so seldom got to hold her niece, and she wasn’t ready to give her up yet. “Put that in the dining room and then go drag Pop out of his wood shop and tell him dinner will be ready in twenty minutes. Chris and Aaron should be here by then.” It would take that long for Sam to pry their dad away from whatever special project he was working on and get the sawdust brushed off his clothes.

Just as she’d predicted, twenty minutes later when the two men came in from the shop, her other two brothers arrived with their families. When it came to celebrating birthdays, or any holidays for that matter, no one did it up any better than the Montgomerys, and an hour and a half later, the house rocked with the sound of conversation and laughter.

With the meal finished, Nicole leaned back in her chair and glanced around the dining room table, lingering on each face, especially her dad’s at the head of the table. He sat with his steepled fingers against his chin, a contented smile on his lips. She glanced down at her matching long fingers. She’d always been fascinated that his large hands could tease a delicate dolphin out of a block of wood or set a bird’s broken wing. He was probably the reason she hadn’t married—she hadn’t found any man who could measure up to him.

Her mom set the candle-laden cake in front of him, and Sam said, “Where’s the fire extinguisher?”

Daniel Montgomery raised an eyebrow. “Better be careful what you say—you’ll be here one day.”

Then he took a deep breath and blew all the candles out while everyone cheered. Nicole sighed, wishing her empty apartment had a little of this warmth and hominess. Except celebrations like this also served as a reminder of what she didn’t have.

On days like this when the whole family was together, she felt like an outsider, the only one without someone special and without children. Oh, good grief. Being single wasn’t the worst thing in the world. It wasn’t like she didn’t have friends. She traveled when she wanted to and controlled the TV remote—what more could she ask for?

“I neef potty!” Her niece’s yell broke her thoughts.

Thank you, Grace. Nicole pushed her chair back and threw her brother a smile. “I’ll take care of this.”

Sam glanced at his brothers. “Now, that’s the way to train your sister.”

She whacked him on the shoulder as she led Grace toward the bathroom.

“Tank you, Aunt G.,” Grace said a few minutes later as Nicole helped her with the Pull-Ups. All of her nieces and nephews had trouble saying “Nicole,” so the problem was remedied by calling her by her first initial.

“You’re welcome, honey. Let’s wash your hands.” When she finished drying Grace’s hands, she asked her, “Having fun today?”

The golden curls bobbed, and Nicole swept the tiny girl up in her arms, marveling at how light she was. With her dainty frame, no doubt she would become the ballerina her grandmother always wanted. A good thing, since the other three grandchildren were boys.

As Nicole neared the dining room, her mother’s voice carried through the open door.

“Samuel, I want you to make sure your sister goes to the children’s shelter cleanup Peter Elliott is doing Saturday. And Aaron and Chris, I expect you to encourage her and to be there, as well.”

Nicole stopped midstride as heat raced up her neck to her cheeks. She should have known her mother wouldn’t listen to her. She counted to ten, giving her heart time to still, then, setting Grace down, she slipped her phone from her pocket and texted her best friend. Invite me to lunch and Christmas shopping Saturday? PLEASE.

Less than a minute later a message pinged. Sure. But why the PLEASE?

Explain later. Nicole put her phone back in her pocket. Then in a voice loud enough to carry, she said, “Okay, Gracie, let’s get you back in your booster seat.”

Silence greeted her as she reentered the dining room and slid Grace into the high chair. “Did I miss anything?”

“Nope,” said her brother Aaron.

Nicole caught the look her mother gave him.

“Oh, by the way,” Aaron said. “I’m volunteering Saturday to help Peter Elliott fix up the shelter. What time do you want me to pick you up?”

“Pick me up for what?”

“Aren’t you going to help?”

She shook her head. “Sorry, I have a lunch date, but I hope you have fun.”

“Lunch date?” her mom repeated. “You never said—”

“Cheryl sent me a text a few minutes ago. We’re doing lunch and then we’ll pick up some Christmas presents.” Which wasn’t a lie. She glanced at her brothers, and the sympathy in their eyes burned her insides. Burned enough to make her blink back tears.

Her dad cleared his throat. “Hey, Nic, if you’re finished eating your cake, come see what I’m working on in the shop.”

She cut a sharp glance at him. No sympathy, just love in his face. She nodded.

Her dad crooked his arm for her to slide her hand through. “We will be back directly, unless Nicole decides to sand a little on that bookcase she’s making,” he said over his shoulder.

“Don’t either one of you dare!” her mother called after them. “You still have your presents to open.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

As they stepped out of the house, her phone alerted that she had a text, and she glanced at it. It was from Cheryl, already canceling their lunch date because she’d remembered a prior commitment. With her boyfriend, no doubt, but Nicole would keep the cancellation to herself.

She strolled with her dad to his workshop.

“Can you believe it’s almost the first of December and seventy degrees?” he said.

Thank you, she replied silently. “I think it’s supposed to turn cold this weekend.”

One thing about her dad—he didn’t push her to talk about something she didn’t want to discuss. The fragrant smell of cedar washed over her when she stepped through the door. “You’re making a cedar chest.”

“Yep. It’s over here.” He led her to the chest, which was finished except for attaching the hinges.

She ran her hand over the smooth wood, admiring the red lumber that seemed to glow. “You never did make me one.”

“You know what they say about the cobbler’s children having no shoes,” he said with a laugh. “Except that’s no longer true. This one’s yours.”

Tears sprang to her eyes. She had so not expected this. “Oh, Pops, thank you. It’s beautiful!”

“Like you.”

“Stop that. You’re going to make me cry.”

He hugged her. “It’s true.”

Nicole laid her head on his shoulder. She knew better. Her mouth was too wide, and her hair too straight, just like her body. Guys never seemed to give her a second look.

She squeezed him and then walked over to the bookcase she’d been working on, half tempted to pick up her sanding paper. “Thanks for feeling sorry for me and getting me out of the house.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I heard Mom when I was in the hallway.”

“Oh.” He rummaged in his toolbox and handed her a sheet of garnet sanding paper. “She means well—she knows how much you want a family, and we’ve both seen the way you look at Sam and Amy. And little Grace.” He put his arm around her. “Honey, I know it was bad after Stuart married what’s her name—”

“Tiffany.”

“Yeah, her. But the point is, eventually you’ll have to risk your heart again.”

If only her heart wasn’t a block of ice. Nicole wasn’t sure she’d ever be willing to trust another man.

“Your mom just wants you to be happy.”

She quirked her mouth in a wry grin. “And Jake O’Neil and his cousin Peter Elliott are at the top of her list of eligible men in Cedar Grove.”

Her dad laughed. “Could be worse.”

“But pushing me on Peter isn’t the answer. I spend two hours a month with the man at the city council meetings, and not once has he indicated he might be interested in me. Other than to get my vote on one of his pet projects.”

“Speaking of votes, I talked to Hugh yesterday. He’s talking about not running for the mayor’s office again in the next election.”

Her heart kicked up a notch. She hadn’t heard that. “Really? Why not?”

“He said he’d been having a few health problems. If he doesn’t run, that would get rid of one of the obstacles you mentioned when we talked about you running for mayor.”

Her mind raced. She’d known and respected Hugh Gordon all her life, but he wasn’t the most effective mayor Cedar Grove could have. If he didn’t run, and if she could win the election, she could implement a plan she’d been working on with Judge Connors, an old friend of her dad’s.

“Whatever you’re thinking, I like it,” her father said. Then he wrinkled his nose. “Except if you become mayor, I’ll have to get someone to run the office.”

The family-owned company was small, and Nicole did it all, from bookkeeping to answering the phone. “Do you really think I could get elected?”

“I don’t know why not. You handily won the city council seat, and the mayor’s office will be a cinch, too. But you need to start campaigning now, let people see you helping out at places...like the children’s shelter. I doubt Cheryl would mind if you canceled your outing.”

“Pops!”

“I’m serious, Nic. You know as well as I do that you would have jumped on helping out if your mom hadn’t been the one to suggest it. I’ve heard you say a dozen times the shelter is a good thing for Cedar Grove. If you’re seriously considering the mayor’s race, you need to get your name out there and quit hiding your light under a bushel. And who knows, you and Peter might just hit it off.”

She stared at him. “Not you, too.”

He raised his eyebrows. “You never know—”

She put her hands on her hips. “I know this. South Mississippi will freeze over before Peter Elliott ever asks me for a date.”

Or his cousin Jake.